Chapter 5: The Investigation Disaster

After discovering the locked door, a new, burning determination settled in my gut. The truth. That’s what I needed. That’s what this whole bizarre, whisper-filled week had been building towards. The only problem was, I had absolutely no clue how to actually *get* it. Real detectives, the ones in movies and books, they had cool gadgets, trench coats, and probably a whole training montage under their belts. They knew how to pick locks, how to follow suspects without being seen, how to interrogate people until they spilled their deepest, darkest secrets. Me? I had a slightly chewed pencil, a stack of paper that was rapidly filling with increasingly desperate scribbles, and a brother who seemed to be actively trying to sabotage my investigation by telling me to stop. So, basically, I had nothing. But still, I wasn’t about to throw in the towel. Not yet.

I marched back to my room, my self-proclaimed investigation headquarters. It wasn’t exactly a beacon of detective prowess. My desk was cluttered with textbooks, half-finished drawings, and a rather impressive pile of clothes that I optimistically referred to as ‘my future laundry’. Still, it was mine. I grabbed a fresh sheet of paper, the crisp white surface a stark contrast to the chaos in my head. At the very top, in my most serious handwriting, I wrote:

**MISSION: FIND THE TRUTH**